To and From
by Garmonbozia
Summary: Written and sealed, and not a one of them ever sent.  There are things you can only say when he can't hear you.   oneshot


Sweetie,

Sometimes I think I'm losing you.

Forgive me, my love. It's not a lack of trust, a lack of faith. None of that. Never will be either. But sometimes, just sometimes, it's hard to see what you intend.

The Carteri, for instance. Now I _know_ you're sick of hearing about this, and you think I'm never going to stop bringing it up, but the fact of the matter is, I was afraid. Let's face it, you've never been the best at blowing things up. Doubtless, none who know you would ever deny your enthusiasm, but _accuracy_… it's never been a big thing for you, has it? Only it is rather important if you're going to drop bombs. And if, as I said to you at the time, there are people down there. Not just our people, which is important, but Carteri other than the ones threatening the peaceable balance of System Four.

You knew that. You'd planned for that.

Before you start on me, I'm just going to acknowledge that you were entirely in the right the whole time. Nobody's questioning that. And my God it was a victory for you. You did beautifully. I don't question that either.

But I was afraid, you know.

You had, as has been conceded, your wonderful, perfect plan. All argument and guile and deception, oh, my love, so very _you_.

But _I_ didn't know that.

You don't get this. I've tried to explain this before and I don't know how to make you understand it. _I_ didn't know. I was _terrified_.

Oh, why, River? Why be so silly? Surely you know I'd never wilfully put people in danger, put you and me in danger, surely you know I'm smarter than all that nasty bomb-dropping stuff, River? Trust me, dear, have a little faith, _yes_, I _know_. I've heard the case before. And fine. You're right. I accept. I never doubted your wit, your intelligence, your respect, your sense of right and good and honourable in all things. Never. Not once.

But I doubted.

I don't know what I doubted, but I did.

And you know I could have killed you. You smiled. You looked at me like a joke, like I'd been drawn in with the rest of the world, me that should have trusted, should have had faith, you _laughed_ at me for being afraid and I could have killed you for it. Why shouldn't I be afraid? When it looked so much as though you were about to become something so impossible, so terrible and wrong, why shouldn't I be afraid? You laughed when I thought I was losing you.

Why don't you understand when I tell it to you?

I could have cared less about the bloody Carteri. About _anybody_. But for a heartbreaking second I believed that you were gone and that was what made me shake.

Trust you, yes. Faith in you, yes. And please, my love, don't take that from me.

With love.

River

* * *

><p>I have no idea what I'm doing. Somebody told me once, like, in school, maybe, probably in detention, that if you had things you couldn't say to somebody you should write it down in a letter and not send it.<p>

This isn't how you start a letter, is it? You're supposed to put your address in the top left… top right… but you know where I live, you keep putting great holes in my garden so I think you know where I live. Anyway, what difference does it make if I'm not going to send it?

Anyway, this is the thing. I don't know how to write a letter. I know how to land the Tardis. I know how to speak to alien diplomats so they don't try to kill me and purge my entire race in a prolonged and fiery vengeance. I'm picking up a bit of Sontaran in case anybody gets captured… again. I know my way around an automatic weapon and I've been to the edge of the stars and you taught me the equation for lightspeed travel so I'll be able to sound smart whenever humans get that far.

But come on, Doctor. I mean, you know where I live.

And let's not pretend I'm never going to end up just living there.

You tell the stories. You don't think about it when you're saying it, but you say it. You say things like, 'I was with Peri at the time-' or 'But that was just Leela all over'. Things like, 'Times like that it was nice having somebody with a medical background.' Oh, and my personal favourite, repeated line, Doctor, 'She was just so human'.

I'm not angry or anything. Someday me and Rory are going to live in a house and you're not going to put holes in the garden anymore. And that's alright. Really. Even though I'll still be your mother-in-law. I'm not angry. That's not the point of this anyway.

Point of this is, someday I'm going to be living in a house. There will be no Tardis to land. No alien threats to fend off. Nobody speaking Sontaran or wanting shot and lightspeed travel probably won't be in my lifetime, if you really really think about it. Someday I'm going to be living in a house and the edge of the stars will be an awfully long way away and… What am I trying to say…

What good does it all do me?

Oh God, that sounds so ungrateful. I'm not. I love it. You know that. I love every second of it, even when we're in fear of our lives and somebody's been captured and the world's on fire, I still love it. You know that.

But when I'm sitting in a house a million lightyears from the edge of the stars, Doctor, what then? What good does it do me then?

Yours, expectantly,

Fish Fingers

P.S. You finish a letter on the right hand side of the page. I can do that bit.

* * *

><p>The Doctor… Doctor.<p>

I don't know if you've noticed this, but your name is really, really awkward. I'm sure that's come up at some point in your life. I don't mean to make a big thing out of it but… what do you sign? Do you put 'The' on for your signature?

Oh, right, letter. I should explain.

Everybody else was writing letters. I was lonely. It was this or Loose Women and I'm not going down that road again. Matter of fact, I don't even know why they're writing letters when we all live in the same box, and yes, fine, it's a large box, but it doesn't have a postcode, and we all do tend to hang around that middle bit most of the time, after all. It's where the dartboard is.

Why do you have a dartboard?

Seriously. You don't even like darts. Don't get me wrong, you're very good at it, as you keep proving, every time you say you're very good at it and I tell you to prove it then. But you never just say, oh, let's play darts. You never just wander up to the board. You keep it tucked away most of the time. So why do you have a dartboard?

Is that a stupid question? It sounds like a stupid question when I read it back but it's not really, when you think about it. It's not just the dartboard, is it? Admit it, genuinely, when was the last time you went down the helter-skelter? Why did you _ever_ need _seven_ squash courts? Nobody needs seven squash courts. You can only play one game at a time, I don't care how good you are at that either. And what about that suite you said you'd _lost_ that might have had the crew of the Marie Celeste in it? How do you _lose_ a suite full of people? You don't lose anything on the Tardis, you can find your way to anywhere you can think of, so how do you _lose_ something unless you want to?

I don't think you're just a hoarder, you see, so that's why I'm asking. If things don't mean anything to you and you don't use them, why do you have them?

Don't get me wrong, you have really great things. _Love_ the helter-skelter. Me and Amy, every morning. Sets you up for the day. Something about a helter-skelter just makes you feel good about yourself. It's good to have things around you that make you feel good about yourself.

Oh.

Alright.

Apologies

R. Pond


End file.
